


You and Me Cleaning Up

by overratedantihero



Series: White Picket Fence, I'll Put A Rock On Your Finger [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Aggressive Dog - Freeform, Continuity Mishmash, Dick and Slade are Married, Flashback, M/M, References to Post RHTO 25, References to bodily injury, Uncharacteristically Affectionate Slade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 15:42:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16370417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overratedantihero/pseuds/overratedantihero
Summary: Dick married Slade as insurance, but Bruce has only become more overbearing.





	You and Me Cleaning Up

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to do more aftermath for this universe a little bit. I probably won't keep adding too much to it, but Married Life with those two has been fun :)

“You know,” Dick said, settling down next to Jason and handing him a fast food bag. “It really perturbs me that you want your fries jokerized every time. I know we joke, but I’m starting to get worried.” Dick opened his own bag and popped a fry into his mouth.

The Gotham night was crisp and uneventful thus far, at least from the rooftops. It was far enough from Halloween for the more notorious villains to be holed up planning, never ones to waste time and resources on non-thematic chaos, and chilly enough for the minor crooks and thieves to behave themselves. It was always eerily calm before it all caught fire, but Dick resisted the waves of anxiety that threatened the pleasantness of the evening.  

“Well, Goldie,” Jason said, plucking a fry from his bag and observing it. “It’s not really your place to worry about how I like my food seasoned.” His voice was muffled by the new mask he sported, the one that cradled his jaw and face like a muzzle underneath his domino. The only remaining physical evidence of Bruce’s most recent transgression, at least since Jason’s bruises and broken bones had healed.

Jason’s red lenses seemed to glow as he continued, “And last I checked? You’re the one sporting red flags and a makeshift ankle bracelet,” Jason moved to pop the fry into his mouth and chew thoughtfully. “It’s a new era, N. B? He expects shit from me. You? Maybe an argument. Maybe a costume change or an obstinate desire to control. But this? Nah. You broke the mold with this one.”

Nightwing shoved his food aside, no longer hungry. He stared out into the city without really seeing anything. “No ankle bracelet, Little Wing. Nothing so severe.”

Jason scoffed, threw a fry at Dick’s face. Dick let it bounce off without moving. Jason cleared his throat. “He’s tracking your every move, keeping you in Gotham, and attaching someone to you every time you go out. It’s not much better than house arrest.”

Dick shook his head. “Only because I let him.”

“Yeah? Think you can outrun B? Because I’ve tried,” Jason hissed. Dick looked at him and blinked.

“Maybe not, but I can outrun you,” Dick said curtly, right before launching himself off the rooftop to plummet several stories before shooting off a hook. The force in which the wire pulled Dick into an arc made Jason’s shoulders sore just from watching it. He’d seen Dick clean dislocate his shoulder and pop it back into place midflight, unnatural creature that he was.

“Dammit, Dick,” Jason growled, shoving a few more fries into his mouth before clasping his mask back into place and chasing after him.

* * *

 

Losing Jason was easy. Jason was strong, and fast, but he wasn’t as agile as Dick, and he was more risk averse with his grapple. Dick also knew Jason’s fighting and running behaviors, better than anyone recognized. There was a time, when Jason was unstable and reckless, that Dick was forced to take up the task of tracking him down and, often, arresting him. And then Jason had joined with Roy and Kori, and the habits he picked up from them were far too familiar to Dick.  

Dick was peeling into the outskirts of Gotham before Jason even found Dick’s communicator, where Dick had abandoned it in a dumpster.

He drove by the Manor; if he attempted to slip into his old bedroom, Alfred would no doubt be at his door within minutes. He imagined Alfred was already told to wait for Dick’s arrival.

So, Dick went to his newest perch. When Slade initially unveiled the house, Dick didn’t think it’d last a week. Slade had only done it to crawl underneath Dick’s skin, and to instigate Bruce. But the house stayed, even if Slade was usually absent. Moreover, it was less the new money mansion that it appeared and more of a fortress. A remote access security system, steel reinforcements for entry points, shatterproof and bullet proof glass, signal jammers. And the entire house was lined with lead, to protect it from prying eyes. There was also cable TV, which had nothing to do with security, but which Dick appreciated on nights like this.

Dick pulled into the garage with his access key and then he dragged himself into the house, his energy sapped. He stripped out of his uniform, leaving pieces of it along the way until he made it to the master bathroom shower. He washed out the sweat and grime that came with playing on rooftops in a city, and then he made a half-hearted attempt at drying his hair before crawling into the bed and falling asleep, forgoing a blanket in favor of a towel half slung over himself.

He didn’t wake until the bed dipped beside him. He kept his eyes closed and his breathing slow and deep while a hand rested on his naked hip. Right before he lashed out, a soft voice murmured, “It’s just me, little bird.”

Dick relaxed and rolled over, the rest of the towel sliding away in the process thereof. He blinked up at Slade. Slade was crouched by the bed in civvies and he had that look of concern on his face and even after all these years Dick still couldn’t gauge Slade’s sincerity.

“Didn’ know you were in town,” Dick mumbled, letting fatigue drip back into his body language now that the threat of a fight had passed.

“I was nearby. I thought I’d drop by,” Slade murmured mildly. Dick rolled his eyes. Slade didn’t just drop by casually. He had likely been near enough and received a notification that Dick had entered the house. This wasn’t the first time that Dick’s arrival shortly preceded Slade’s. Just, usually Dick knew Slade was in town.

“I thought marrying you would give me some insurance,” Dick murmured, closing his eyes as Slade began to lightly massage his back with a hand that kept drifting just a touch too low to be appropriate. “But he’s bearing down. Jason’s loving it. Tim’s pulled away. I think Damian is spying on me.” Dick huffed softly.

In an uncharacteristic show of sympathy, Slade cocked his head and frowned. “Little bird,” he began, in a low, soothing tone, “I can always add you to my insurance plan.”

Dick grabbed the nearest pillow and hit Slade with it. “You don’t have health insurance, you have a healing factor.” Dick paused. “I don’t even know if _I_ have health insurance. Alfred just patches me, I haven’t been to a doctor outside of him or Leslie since I was… well, since I was nine,” Dick said with a frown. “Oh my god, he didn’t take me to the doctor because he didn’t want to get reported to CPS, didn’t he? Jesus!” Dick sat up and rubbed the bridge of his nose, pulling the towel over his lap as an afterthought.

Slade shrugged, standing and looking down at Dick. “He shouldn’t have inducted you into his contrived mission when you were so young, if he didn’t want to be accused of child abuse.”

“Moot point, Deathstroke,” Dick murmured, settling back down, taking the pillow he threw back so that he could lay his head on it. “I know who you are, don’t think you’re better than Bruce.”

“I clearly am,” Slade smirked, crossing his arms, “or you would be there, and not here.”

“I’m only here because I’m convinced that the fact you’re here means something,” Dick shot back. That was a mistake. Dick yelped as Slade darted forward and straddled him so quickly that Dick didn’t have a chance to sit up.

Dick was suddenly very conscious of the fact that he was still naked, and Slade was still clothed, and now Slade was leaning over him.

Once, shortly after Dick took up the Robin mantle, a wealthy woman’s purebred Akita attacked him. It wasn’t the dog’s fault; this was when Bruce would only take Dick on small trips. They’d break up robberies and watch for women walking alone. The woman and her dog were being accosted and while Bruce was handling the would-be robbers, Dick had approached the woman to make sure she was okay. Her harried dog attacked, slamming Dick onto his back. It had leered over him, growling lowly while thick saliva dripped from between massive, yellowed teeth.

“Hey, puppy,” Dick had cooed, showing his gloved palms and baring his neck. “You’re okay. We’re okay. Your momma’s okay too.” Dick had forced himself to relax and to wait patiently as the dog lowered its hackles and quieted down. Eventually, as if hearing her voice for the first time, the dog had perked up at the sound of its owner calling its name. It left Dick, laying on his back, staring up at a cloudy, polluted night sky.

“Robin!” Bruce had shouted before scooping him from the ground and grappling the two of them away. Once they were a distance away and alone on a rooftop, Bruce had checked Dick over for wounds.

“What do you think you were doing?” Bruce had growled, anger pouring into his voice, breaking his impassive facade. “You could have gotten hurt! You exposed yourself to a scared, aggressive animal, it could have torn out your throat. Do you understand that? Learn to defend yourself, or _this_ ends,” he’d snapped, gesturing to the “R” on Robin’s uniform.

Dick had blinked up at him. “I didn’t have to. It was a dog, it was just doing what dogs do. It’s in their nature to get upset like that, but they’re not gonna hurt you if they don’t think they have to. I’ve played with bigger dogs,” Dick had grinned devilishly, “I’ve played with _lions_. I had it handled, B, promise.”

Dick blinked away the memory and craned his neck to smile up at Slade. “Hey there,” Dick cooed. “What are you doing?”

Slade blinked at him and huffed. “I’m fond of you, kid. I don’t like your old man.”

Dick bared his throat and smiled softly. “You’re okay. We’re okay.”


End file.
